I Dreamed a Dream
by Eveilae
Summary: Jounouchi's dead, Seto's sad, same old, same old. EXCEPT. Jounouchi can come back to Seto . . . for a price that Seto might not be willing to pay. LET'S LAUGH AND POINT AT THE ANGSTFILLED PEOPLE IN THIS STORY!
1. Chapter 1

**I Dreamed A Dream**

**Originally going to be a one-shot, but I decided this needs a few chapters.**

**Possibly some random tense changes. I tend to do that accidentally.**

**Warning: This fic contains shonen-ai, naughty words more likely than not, and has characters that are not mine. Obviously, this is so, or else this fic wouldn't be in would it?

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Kaiba Seto sits on the grave, impatiently looking around. Why had they told him to come here? Of all places, they asked him specifically to sit on his grave. Well, not to _sit_ on his grave, exactly, but Seto always felt better when sitting so close to him. Yuugi did not like it, but what did he care about Yuugi's opinion?

The letter had said some strange things. Something about rebirth, something about love and a whole load of crap about Jounouchi. Yet, here he was, waiting. What had it been about that letter that had convinced him to come? He did not know. But anything even slightly about Jounouchi made him feel like crap, and he wanted the feeling gone. Now.

It has been months. He has managed to avert the sad mourners that want to envelope him, even Yuugi, Honda and Anzu. Can they not understand that he does not _want_ to dwell in his memory? Seto would much rather never have met Jounouchi, and never have to feel this burning pain in his chest, every day. But _they _are the type to say _At least we got to know him_.

Seto just wants this nagging thing _gone_. He is not in control when he is mourning, and he likes control. He controls his company, he controls his lackeys, and he controls himself. Except, lately, _Jounouchi_'s been controlling him, with his death.

"_Damn _you, Jounouchi. Just get back into your grave, and stop interfering with my life!" He slams his fist into the dirt, and decides, quite suddenly, that whatever whoever sent the letter has to say to him, he does not want to hear it. He pushes himself up, and spins around, brushing some dirt off his coat.

And bangs head on into someone. "Fuck!" He exclaims, looking up to glare at the stranger and ask him exactly _what_ he thinks he's doing? But all the words that were on the tip of his tongue a second before run back, screaming, down his throat, and hide somewhere in his intestines, never to come out.

"Hey, Seto," Jounouchi says quietly, his voice rather raspy, and grins his lopsided, easy-going grin. Seto just looks at him, wide-eyed and for the first time in his life, scared out of his mind with terror.

"You are dead," he answers, his voice shaking, no matter how steady he tries to make it. He balls his hands into fists in an attempt to stop himself from shaking.

"Do I look it?" Jounouchi looks down at himself, a happy glint in his eyes, and a lets out a small laugh. Instead of saying more, he reaches out with a cold—he's so cold—hand and takes Seto's. Seto finds himself stiffening, but he does not pull way.

"You feel it." Seto does not want the apparition—because that is all it can be—to come any closer.

It does anyway. It chills Seto's very soul to feel Jounouchi's breath against his neck, after spending so much time convincing himself that he will never feel such a thing again. A small gasp escapes his lips without his permission, and he feels himself getting irritated at such a lack of control.

"Kaiba Seto, you have no idea how much I've missed you . . . " Even with skin so cold, Seto cannot help but enjoy the feelings that his nuzzling gives him.

"No!" Seto cries, suddenly, his brain finally catching up with him. Katsuya Jounouchi is dead. This strange creature in front of him cannot be Jounouchi because the real one is underground, dead as a doornail.

Jounouchi's eyes fill up with shock and hurt. But he looks so real. How can someone _create_ the emotion and passion Jounouchi put in everything he did? How can someone recreate those golden locks and constantly fall into his eyes? Yet, somehow those features and actions are there. As Jounouchi leans over again—to kiss him?

Seto pulls away from him completely and turns away. "What are you?" He hisses at him. He doesn't want to look at Jounouchi anymore. It makes his heart beat faster than usual just seeing him—or his image—again, and his hands are sweating, and he hates it. He hates looking at _him_ because he loves it so much, and he's missed it so much.

"You know what he is. He's your lover, Katsuya Jounouchi." He spins around, and Jounouchi—no, the creature—is gone. In his place there stands a tall man in a black suit. He's standing so perfectly still, Seto almost misses him.

"Katsuya is dead," he replies stiffly. Steady, Seto, steady. Don't let him convince you otherwise. You were at the wake, you were at the funeral. You saw the crying friends and family, the taut expressions and puffy eyes.

"He's only dead because you want him to be. But-" he pauses, and a small chuckle is heard. "If you desire otherwise . . .there are ways to bring him back." Neither of tehm move. There is no need to. This stranger seems to know him enough so that he can guess what's going on in Seto's head. Doubts are fluttering around his brain, and he knows that this man is wrong, based on every bit of logic Seto has. Yet there's a tiny bit of him that wants to believe this man. You know, the same part that would like to believe in fairies. So, apparently, it's a very small part.

"That's impossible."

"Really?" He's gotten closer. How? Was Seto so occupied with his thoughts that he didn't notice the man moving? It doesn't seem likely. He's the attentive sort. "Says the man who has managed to make virtual creatures _real_."

"But they aren't. You can shut them off with a switch of a button. Real, live beings don't work that way." He crosses his arms over his chest. This conversation is over.

"Neither do emotions." This man is annoying. What gives him the right to speak of Kaiba Seto like this? Like they are more than mere strangers. He has nothing to speak to him about. Without another word, he spins around and begins to walk away.

"It _is_ normal to miss him. And, just a bit of advice, from one genius to another—well, never mind, I've thought of a more inventive way of giving it to you." Seto would turn around and give the man a glare, but he knows that the strange won't be standing there anymore.

So he walks home in silence, abandoning his chauffeur and limo for a quiet, thoughtful stroll. His chauffer sits there for about three hours before going home, incidently. Seto doesn't even give the poor mana thought, unfortunately.

What can he make of the events that had developed? He cannot forget about it, just as he cannot forget the linger sensation of soft lips on his skin. The memories are making his pulse race, but he forces himself to think logically. It is physically impossible for anyone to bring the dead back to life.

The man had also mentioned KaibaCorp's virtual technology for a reason. He must mean he has a virtual method of doing such a thing. But any company—or man, if that is the case—that has the ability to do anything even _close_ to what he's suggesting, would be rich. Why would he need Seto? No one owes him any favors because Seto is rarely kind enough to do anything to justify a need for a favor.

But Seto allows himself to briefly _pretend_ he will listen to the man's offer.

The Jounouchi that the man creates won't be the man he's grown used to. It may be close, but there will be flaws. After all, he's simply programming, in the end. Is Seto desperate enough to accept that?

Damn this angst. Damn, damn, damn. Once again he wishes he could purge Jounouchi completely from his memory. Then he could back to his life, hectic as it may be, without this weight on his shoulders all the time.

Mokuba is sleeping when Seto walks into the mansion. Or at least he _better_ be, Seto thinks to himself, if he knows what's good for him. Seto settles himself into an armchair in the nearest room, and makes an attempt to just relax. He wants to give himself a pat on the back for lasting more than thirty seconds sitting still, doing nothing.

Maybe he should go out, take another walk.

And do _what_, exactly? Think some more about the absurdity that had suddenly become his life? No thank you. He could always drown himself in liquor. That always seems to work on the television shows people watch, right? He's about to walk to the kitchen when he realizes he doesn't have beer. He had only begun to buy it in the first place because of Jounouchi—and _obviously_ there was no need for it anymore.

"Arrrrrrgggggg," Seto growls as he stalks upstairs. Sleep sounds nice. Sleep sounds perfect, in fact. That is, if he can get any at all. Maybe some good luck will come his way and some axe murderer will cut him up in his sleep.

LINE

It's the next morning. Barely. If you looked at the horizon you'd see just about half the sun. That is, if you're even looking outside the huge window in your office, which Seto is not.

He's typing furiously, making sure he beats down any thoughts that are not work-related. If thoughts about Jounouchi and a tiny inner Seto were to have jousting match, Seto would probably cheat and shoot a rocket at the Jounouchi-thoughts in his near-crazed desire to defeat them. Once again, though, that isn't the case.

The little inner Seto is simply beating the Jounouchi-thoughts with a stick.

"Someone is here for you." His secretary's voice sounds shaky. It hasn't been shaky since that first month and half she'd spent at her job.

Seto isn't stupid enough to ask himself the typical, _Who could it be_. And then be shocked as he opens the door and sees who it is. He has a pretty good guess who it is and he is _determined_ not to be shocked. So when he pushes open the big double doors leading into his office angrily, and has to swallow a gasp in surprise, he's annoyed.

He's more shocked, though, than annoyed, though. Because he realizes why his secretary was so shaken.

Picture this: For months on end, a handsome, charming, clumsy guy regularly visits your boss's office, and comes out with his hair ruffled, and his eyes a happy sort of glazed. Then **ka-blam** he's dead. Then, **boom**, he appears again—after the funeral and everything—right in front of you. Would you run away screaming, or shakily announce to your boss he has a visitor?

You would run away wouldn't you? But she didn't. _That_ is why she is Kaiba Seto's secretary—and has a nice car—and not you.

"Hey," Jounouchi grins as he swaggers over, hands in his pants pockets, and hair a usual mess. "Did you have a good night's rest."

"Get out of here," Seto hisses at the apparition. It's not an apparition, and Seto knows this. But what does he care? Apparition is a good word for a man who should be dead.

Jounouchi frowns, and slumps over slightly, his unconscious habit when his self-esteem is lowered a tab. "What? I haven't _done_ anything."

"You're not Katsuya, and you know it. You're not the puppy." Seto cannot believe he let those embarrassing words out of his mouth. He's not blind, he sees people 'subtly' pausing to watch the show. Oh god, _the puppy_? That was a private phrase. Stupid, stupid virtual _thing_.

"You know, if you're going to act like a prick, I'll just leave. I didn't come here to be insulted." He really does look annoyed. Can he _do_ that? Jounouchi turns his back on Seto, but only briefly. He looks back at Seto, his eyes still angry. "Oh, yeah. He told me to tell you, _that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet_." Then off his goes, and Seto is left standing there, confused, angry and angst-filled . . .again. Damn, _damn, **damn**_.

He looks at his secretary, and mutters through clenched teeth, "I need cookies." Then he rushes back into his office before she can respond. The saddest part about the whole affair is that the secretary doesn't even have to ask. She picks up the phone, calls up Seto's favorite bakery, and makes the usual order.


	2. Chapter 2

**I Dreamed A Dream

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**The thing at the beginning about Kaiba glancing back like a girl who has . . . etc. is an allusion to a horror story where a girl is left in the car while her boyfriend goes for gas, and takes a nap. There's a mad killer guy on the loose. When she wakes up the car is covered in some red stuff. Then a police car comes up, and the guys take her out. While they're driving away they tell her to not look back. She does, and her boyfriend's hung on the tree, and it's his blood that was all over the car. Dun dun dun. For some reason I felt like telling that story.**

**Warning: This fic contains shonen-ai, naughty words more likely than not, and has characters that are not mine. Obviously, this is so, or else this fic wouldn't be in would it?

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Driving home that night, he keeps glancing back occasionally. Okay, possibly more than occasionally. Let's just say enough time to almost get into four car accidents.

As you can tell, he's minutes away from a complete nervous breakdown. Kaiba Seto _doesn't_ glance back like a girl who has a policeman telling her to not look back. He might throw back a smirk at some defeated loser, but never a fearful glance back. So, in conclusion, Kaiba Seto feels like he's going mad.

The logical part of Seto is asking why he is even peeking back _when he's in a car_. The rest of Seto ignores the question and keeps looking back. Every part of him lets out a sigh of relief when he finally pulls up into the driveway. Scrambling—if he would let you say the word describing him without throwing you a silencing glare—to the door, he shoves his key into the lock, and twists it. No looking back Kaiba Seto, he warns himself. He's not there.

"Hey, Seto." Seto jumps, and the key in his hand goes clattering to the floor. He doesn't want to turn around and face him, but he knows he has to. He's got his pride, and it's whispering for him to face his fear once and for all. After all, his logic says simply, it's not _really_ him.

"You."

Katsuya Jounouchi—no! The stupid leprechaun, yes _leprechaun_—is smiling, but it's a guarded smile, ready to flit away as soon as there's trouble.

Seto wants to kiss the smile right off, but he restrains himself. After all the leprechaun's not—

"How can I _not_ be real, Seto?" He looks down at himself, his brow furrowed, and the thin smile gone. He pats himself—on his chest, his face, his legs—and chokes out another few words. "I remember _dying_, but here I am." He looks up at Seto and there are tears, actual tears, in his eyes.

That is the last straw for Seto. He strides over to the puppy and pulls him into his arms. It's that peculiar and familiar scent of his that he breathes in. It's been so long. "Don't cry," he whispers into the leprechaun's hair.

"Don't you cry, tonight, 'cause I still love you baby. Don't you cry, tonight." It has to be him. Who else would randomly start singing at such a moment? A Guns N Roses song, no less. It's his favorite American band. Seto had to live through their blaring music the whole time they were been together. Jounouchi only made an attempt at English when he was singing.

"You're the one crying, you idiot." Seto reaches up with a shaking finger and wipes away the stray tears on his puppy's cheeks. He wants to move away, but he doesn't. He wants to get closer. But—

"I can't help it. You keep telling me I'm not who I remember being, and I'm starting to think you're right." Seto can hear in his voice that he's going to start bawling in a bit if Seto doesn't manage to stop him in the next five seconds. He gladly takes up the challenge.

Seto presses his lips roughly to Jounouchi's, surprised at his own vigor. But now his puppy's pressing back, and these thoughts flutter away gently. It feels so odd, to feel a dead man's tongue in his mouth, to feel a corpse's hands around his waist, a cadaver's body pushing against his own.

Even with these thoughts in his head, it's Jounouchi who pulls away.

"Why don't you think I'm real?" Jounouchi is still holding him tightly, but his eyes are serious and lack the fire of desire. Seto relaxes in his grip, and sighs.

"Because you're dead. I saw your corpse, you know." He rests his head on Jounouchi's shoulder, and lets out another deep breath. "You were horribly mangled. I didn't allow the wake to be an open casket because I knew that Yuugi and Mokuba would be traumatized for life if they ever saw your body."

"Please, Seto, don't joke around with this." Jounouchi sounds almost hurt, which is strange. Jounouchi rarely ever let Seto know he true feelings, covering up his intentions with insults and kisses.

"I'm not joking." Seto doesn't want to let go of him. He doesn't care if someone drives up and sees them. It feels like it felt in the beginning, when it was a secret, when it was special and hush-hush. The puppy has come back to his master, wagging tail and all.

"The last thing I remember is the car going out of control . . . " Jounouchi begins in a slow voice, as if Seto had asked something. But he doesn't want to hear the memories. Why can't Jounouchi show some sort of intelligence for once and _shut up_!

"Shut up, puppy." Seto growls lowly into Jounouchi's ear.

Jounouchi obeys silently. Seto grins at the familiarity of the situation. Only Jounouchi would comply with him so readily. "Just forget it."

"I can't, Seto. Don't be an idiot. You can't possibly expect me to forget something like dying, can you? I'm not _you_ after all." Jounouchi burrows his have into Seto's coat, and sighs, his whole body shaking from the effort.

"Fine, don't forget it. Ignore it."

Jounouchi chuckles lightly. "I thought I was some sort of dead thing."

"You are." Jounouchi winces against his chest. "But I'm willing to forget that. I need . . . " Jounouchi's breath catches, but Seto stops himself before he can finish. No. He's being far to open. After all this isn't Jounouchi, it's a leprechaun. He's not going to tell him he needs him. Kaiba Seto doesn't need anyone. " . . . to get laid. "

"Oh."

A silence falls upon the two of them like a blanket on a small child's sleeping body. Seto feels awkward for having covered up his feelings so sloppily.

"Seto . . . I've died and somehow I've returned. And all you can says is that you need to get laid!" Somewhere between these words Jounouchi pushes Seto away roughly. His eyes are wet with fury and his hands are balled into fists. "You _do_ think I'm some sort of zombie! You think I don't _feel_," he slaps his chest as he says this, "in my heart? God, you are such a fucking asshole!"

Seto just stands there, his expression stony and his body still. What is it the leprechaun expects from him? Does he expect Seto to stand there and welcome him with wide-open arms? Seto would never have done that for the real Jounouchi, much less for some wannabe leprechaun.

"Get out."

"What!"

"I said, get out. Are you among the living impaired? Do you really need me to elaborate!" He glares at the leprechaun and patiently—he thinks—waits for him to leave. The leprechaun simply shoots him back a matching glare and whirls around, stalking off angrily.

Seto is left standing there, unsure as to whether he's sad the leprechaun has left, or glad.

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The man chuckles to himself and takes off the headset he has on his head. He opens up a laptop and with a press of a finger turns it on. The black screen brightens, although it's stilly black, and it flickers gently as a slight hum emits from the machine.

"Kaiba Seto . . .you'll give in. But maybe . . . I should be more persuasive." Another laugh.

"Dear Kaiba Seto. Have you enjoyed the little gift I sent you?" The sound of fingers typing rapidly accompanies the man's drawl, and giggle. "If you'd like to see more of the same, please contact me. And do not make an attempt to contact any authorities. Don't underestimate me, Kaiba Seto." There's the sound of a mouse clicking, and then the man rubs his hands together, as if he's cold.

"Come on, Kaiba. I'm making you an offer you can't _refuse_."

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**I don't know why he calls Jou a leprechaun. Also, this is a short chapter, isn't it? Please forgive me. **


	3. Chapter 3

Jounouchi Katsuya walks down the empty dark street, hands in his pockets, and a furious look on his face. Why is Kaiba Seto like that? Not even the death of his lover fazes him in the least? What kind of person is Kaiba, anyway?

The night is dark, and Jounouchi finds that he likes it that way. When he was alive—the first time? Is he still alive now? —he used to revel in the light. The sun would bring out the light in himself, and the way it shone on everything he saw just brought his spirits up no matter what his mood. But now it seems as if his entire life has turned into a negative photo. The light that comes from the tall streetlights is more than enough brightness for this new Jounouchi.

Looking down at his own hands, he sees the same things he had seen the years before that fateful day. Those were _his_ hands, weren't they? They felt like his hands. They had those calluses from work around the house. There was that scar from when Honda missed when cutting pie. The bloody cuticles from his merciless teeth. He can't see the dark color of his skin from the lack of light, but he knows it's there, from his days in that hateful sun.

Then why can't Kaiba see it? How can he not recognize the same hands that had caressed him, held him? That he had kissed, licked, held? These are the same hands, damn it! He finally seems to realize that he's stopped walking, and is simply standing on the sidewalk, staring at his hands.

Then he sees the dark limousine that's rolled up next to him silently. The windows are tinted black, and Jounouchi can see his own surprised expression reflected in them. He's draw impulsively to it, and puts a warm hand on the car door's smooth, cold surface. The window rolls down and he can dimly make out the shape of a man in the darkness of the interior of the car.

"Hello, Katsuya." What? Who does this man think he is, to so coolly use his first name? As if they're close friends?

"Who are you?" Jounouchi asks suspiciously, lifting his hand from the car. It leaves a light mark that begins to fade immediately. Jounouchi takes several steps back, slowly, waiting for the man to answer.

"You do not recognize your own father?" A chuckle comes from the car, but it's a sinister, cold laugh. Jounouchi shivers despite his jacket, and finds himself afraid. He hasn't felt like this in so long a time that at first he's unsure as to what the feeling puddling in his chest is at all. Not much scares the jaded Jounouchi Katsuya.

"You're not my father." Jounouchi moves away a bit further, only to find himself bumping into something hard. He turns his head and smells the sharp tangy aroma of sweat. What's going on?

"Fine, not biologically. But who do you think brought you back to this wondrous form once again? You really do have a magnificent body. Healthy, and in perfect condition for my plan. Unfortunately, though, if you decide to make this difficult for me, I'll have to ruin that lovely visage a bit. Not too much. I don't want to deliver Kaiba damaged goods." Another laugh, and he feels a thick, strong grip on his upper arm. He's strong for his age, but this man is strong for a _lion_. There's no way he is escaping this dilemma unscathed.

Then again, logical reasoning is Kaiba's forte. Jounouchi is the jump-right-in-and-get-your-ass-kicked sort. He tries to pull his arm away from the iron grip it's in, only to hurt himself in the process, and fail in budging the other man. "_Please_, Katsuya, don't fight Mr. Barker. He's not a very patient man, you'll find." Jounouchi ignores the man's distracting words and turns to punch the man in the jaw.

He's pushed to the ground roughly before he can so much as lift a fist. He lands face first, and slides on the sidewalk a few inches. Several parts of his body smart painfully, but he pushes the pain away into the back of his mind. He lifts up his fists once he's up, waiting expectantly for the man the approach and attack. He's not expecting the blow to the back of head. Right before everything goes black, and his thoughts fade to nothing, he hears the sinister chuckle again.

"Tsk, tsk. You really are my son. Who else would be as painfully stubborn?"

* * *

Kaiba glances up at the beep. It takes him a few seconds to realize it means that he's gotten an email. He almost decides to ignore it and leave it for the next day, but he's not that great a slacker, in truth. So he opens his laptop slowly, and clicks on the little envelop button.

_Dear Kaiba Seto, _reads the email. Kaiba immediately knows it's not from one of his employees, and they're the only people with his email to begin with._ Have you enjoyed the little gift I sent you? If you'd like to see more of the same, please contact me. And do not make an attempt to contact any authorities. Don't underestimate me, Kaiba Seto. _What? How did this person get his email? Is this a stupid joke from that American toddler who likes to consider herself a hacker, Hawkings? Another beep announces the arrival of a second email. Kaiba opens this one with a slightly moment's hesitant.

_Dear Kaiba Seto_, _I'm sorry for being so impatient, but I want an answer soon. Well, I hope you did enjoy his visit, because his next visit won't come cheap. Don't worry; I don't plan on having you pay hourly for him, like some common whore. I was thinking more in a kidnapping kind of way, even though I started out with him to begin with. Or bet yet, an auction. _Kaiba feels his hands tightening into fists instinctively. Someone's trying to hurt his puppy? No one gets away with animal cruelty if Kaiba has anything to do with it . . .

_So, Kaiba, how about it? _

Kaiba growls as at the screen. This isn't Hawking's style, really. Anyway, Hawkings was brainwashed by Yuugi, wasn't she? She went to college, too, he heard. Genius girl would be too busy making friends and loving them to worry about how to possibly bring the puppy back from the dead. And all that friendship garbage would really hinder her from blackmailing him, too.

Which reminds him . . . should he tell Yuugi?

Yeah, the same Yuugi who'd been crying hysterically at the funeral. If you had seen him you would have thought that his life was now over, the way he was carrying on. But then again, Yuugi had always been that sensitive type, the innocent one that has to be protected by the others forever. How would he respond to having his best friend back again?

He'd do anything. Even if there's the change that this 'Jou' isn't even real. Yuugi's loyal—and clingy—that way.

No. No need to make Yuugi more distressed than absolutely is needed to. No need to include anyone else, in fact, not even Jounouchi's own family. At the funeral, he saw Jounouchi's father snap. He kept saying that he only wished he'd known his son better . . . if only, if only . . . it would not help that man to see his son again, just to be reminded of his past mistakes. He's trying to make it all up to his daughter. That's all he can do now.

And Shizuka . . . she'd never forgiven him for taking Jounouchi away from her. In her irrational mind, Jounouchi's lessened attention towards her would have eventually ended in him abandoning her. And Kaiba was the reason for that lessened attention. No, he can one-handedly handle this hacker. He's go enough talent to go face to face against such a skill-full opponent. And in turn find out that disturbing truth about the leprechaun.

After a few clicks of his mouse, he begins typing. _How much do you want?_

* * *

Jounouchi Katsuya has been in the dark, dank room for such a long time . . . it's completely pitch black and it feels to Jounouchi that it's smothering him all his sense. Everything feels the same, rough and dry. Everything smells the same, even his hands smell like the stone that lines the ground and floor. He's hungry, but his voice will only echo in this place, and return to him. He can't eat the rock, either . . . he's tried.

The only thing that seems to change are the sounds. Outside, muffled screams ring through Jounouchi's ears. He wants to cover them up, but he isn't sure he would even be able to find them in this inky blankness. They don't sound _human_, these cries of pain and anguish. They don't sound like animals, either. What are these _things_ that make these noises? There's an explanation for this, only one he can think of . . . but he won't allow himself to think of it. It's too much. If he admits to this explanation . . .

No.

His name is Jounouchi Katsuya. He's nineteen years old. He has blonde hair and light brown eyes. He's five foot seven. He's—

"He's bailed you out, Katsuya, just as I knew he would. It took him about an hour, though, to get everything worked out. 100.000.000 yen for me, and you for him! For a day, of course. You don't come cheap." It's the same voice from the limousine. That drawl, that cackle that he lets out after he's done speaking . . . it's odious. Jounouchi just wants to get his hands on the man so he can strangle him. How dare he do this to him! He's not his father. His father is at home . . . how _is_ his father? He hadn't even asked Seto about his family, his friends.

Jounouchi hears a door swing open and his eyes burn as the light shines through. He cries out in pain and scuttles away from the little. "Oh, dear Katsuya, are you not going to answer me? Don't _hide,_ little one. Don't you want to see your precious Kaiba again? Feel his body against yours, his voice in your ears, his scent in your nose?"

The makes Jounouchi feels as if his desires are insignificant. He wants all those things, but the man makes them feel small, stupid. He crawls towards the door anyway. Before he reach the outside on his own, he feels a strong hand lift him to his feet. The light is still blinding him, though less than before. He cannot make out the man's face, yet.

"Come along. I must freshen you up before I send you on your way to Kaiba." He's pulled down the bright hallway and wonders how this light didn't shine beneath the door. On and on they walk, until Jounouchi just about thinks he's going to collapse. He can't take this, the light's still too bright and the man's cologne is too powerful and—

"We're here, darling."

The room isn't as bright as the hallway and he look in without his eyes crying out in pain. It's empty except for a long, plain white table in the middle of the room with two chairs on either side of it. Seated on the chair facing him is a beautiful young woman. Her hair is long but seems to hang limply off her scalp, if someone shot it with a twelve gauge.

Her expression is . . . she doesn't seem to rally have one. She looks at him, but doesn't seem to see him. It frightens him, and he wants to leave. Either that or put her out of her misery. Is it possible that . . . she really doesn't feel _anything_?

"Ah," the man lets out a loud sigh of remembrance, and places a hand on the woman's shoulder. "This is my very first model. I keep her around to remind me of my first wonderful achievement." He looks down at the woman with a sick mix of happiness and pride on his face. Jounouchi has an overpower urge to shove this man's face into a boiling pot of iron. He's about to try the next best thing and bash this man's face in when said man chuckles.

It wasn't just any chuckle. It made Jounouchi's blood freeze in his veins. He couldn't move. Don't take it the wrong way; he wasn't paralyzed with fear or surprise. He just couldn't move. "Silly, silly boy. You think I would give you complete independence? You are a perfect specimen, and I am not going to let such a beautiful creature such as you do anything . . . undesirable." This man could control him?

Jounouchi finds himself sitting in the chair across from the android. For the first in his life he feels completely alone and defeated. He can't even control his own life. Kaiba was right, he wasn't Jounouchi Katsuya. The Jounouchi Katsuya whose memories he had was never this weak, this powerless. Although he doesn't know it, his face nearly mirrors the android's; devoid of hope and life.

* * *

**That took a long time, now didn't it?**


End file.
